


A Very Professional Job

by leashy_bebes



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well you are much too cute to be here for the right reasons."<br/>"I guess I must be here for the wrong ones, then."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Professional Job

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 round of kink bingo square of roleplay. Prostitution roleplay in the context of an established relationship.

Tony is so bored. Jesus Christ, _so_ bored. Corporate bullshit has always been bullshit, but it seems so much _worse_ now. It's like they're not just keeping him from messing around in the workshop or drinking with people he actually likes, but from stuff that could actually be important. Which isn't to say that he's hoping for a call to assemble, because that would be unethical, and he _totally_ isn't.

What he is doing is keeping his eye on a head of blond hair, a broad pair of shoulders, watching as Steve circulates among the guests, so much more confident than he ever used to be at this crap. 

What he's doing is waiting.

There are waiters circling the room with trays of canapés and champagne, and Tony is distracted by one of them long enough that he lets himself get cornered by Jackie Adkins. His family made their money sweeping up scrappy little military contracts that SI didn't bother with. He's not Justin Hammer level of annoying, but he's close.

He's talking to (at) Tony, and it's pretty obvious he's fishing for ways to weaponise the latest search and rescue tech Tony's guys have just pushed out onto the open market. Over his shoulder, Tony can see Steve talking to someone he'd probably refer to as 'a society dame'. It's not quite flirtation, what Steve's doing, but it's definitely very aware as he gives the woman his sweetest smile, and flashes a glance over at Tony.

Eventually, Steve loses his company and walks over to the bar. Tony waits a few more tense seconds until Steve leans against the bar, his phone in one hand, looking distracted as he thumbs through it.

"Excuse me," Tony murmurs, not exactly polite, but not totally rude, and steps around Adkins, making a very unsubtle beeline for Steve. Champagne-toting waiters aside, in this party as in so much of life, if you want to get the good stuff you've got to get to the bar. Right now, Tony is not above elbowing people out of his way to get to the six-foot-something of good stuff Steve's packed into that Armani suit.

"Now," Tony says, once he's got himself access to the stretch of bar next to Steve and is leaning up against it, far enough that they don't look like they're standing together, but close enough that he can ensure only Steve hears when he says, "You are way too pretty to be here for the right reasons."

"That so?" Steve asks, giving Tony a glance up and down. "I guess I must be here for the wrong ones, then."

There's the barest hint of a smile before he looks back to his phone. Tony doesn't think he's ever been alone with Steve and had so _little_ of his attention.

"Get you a drink?" he offers.

Steve looks at him again and this time his slow glance takes in Tony's expensive watch and the cut of his suit. _Shit_ , Steve is good at this.

"Sure, okay," he says, and his smile goes soft again. There's something about knowing it's a performance that burns hot in Tony's belly. "Just a soda. I don't like to drink on the job."

Tony lets the corner of his mouth tug into a smile. "That's a very professional approach for someone in your line of work," Tony says as he attracts the attention of the nearest bartender.

Once they both have their drinks, Steve says quietly, "There's a reason I have access to places like this. To men like you, Mr Stark."

 _Oh_ -kay. Steve won't be pretending not to know who Tony is, then. That's...hot in a weird, shivery kind of way.

"And that's down to your professionalism, is it?"

"That, and I'm very good at what I do," Steve says, still low, but without a trace of modesty. He's suddenly very close just by virtue of turning around to face Tony.

"I see." Tony tilts the whisky back and forth in his glass. "And what, _exactly_ do you do?"

"Pretty much whatever you want. Within certain, pre-agreed limits."

Tony pulls a face. "Oh. Limits." He drums his fingers on the bartop and says, "Lemme guess. No kissing?" 

He's kidding, just being a jerk because Steve has been watching Tony's mouth as he talks and Tony can feel the want between them. 

"Yeah," Steve says. "Among a few other things. I'm sure you can imagine."

Steve's not the only one who can make a smile into a performance piece. Tony turns the full wattage Stark grin on him and says, "Maybe, but I'd like to find out for sure."

Steve's smile slips for a moment, becomes something a bit too real. "That can be arranged," he says, recovering well.

"Go wait in the bathroom two floors down," Tony says and Steve widens his eyes.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be a classy guy, Mr Stark."

Christ, Tony loves this guy so much. "I think the papers you've been reading are a little out of date, handsome."

He sees the way Steve bites the inside of his cheek, maybe trying not to laugh. He nods and finishes his drink, leaves the room without looking back. Tony orders another Scotch. He means to take his time over it but ends up just tipping his glass from side to side a couple of times before tossing it back and making his way downstairs.

The bathrooms down here are just as unnecessarily large, but have the benefit of being unattended, so Steve is waiting just inside the door, leaning back against the wall with his phone in one hand, looking for all the world like he has better places to be.

"That's kinda rude," Tony remarks, locking the door behind him. "I'm paying for your time, right? I'm gonna need at least a hundred percent of your attention."

Steve gives him a smile and slides his phone into his pocket. His posture is loose and easy, perfect for Tony to step up close to him and feel the heat of his body, slide his hands inside Steve's jacket to graze over his hard muscles through the softness of his shirt. Steve's own hands settle on Tony's hips, notch him in a little closer. It's so quiet in the tiled room that Tony can hear the little tick as his reactor glances off Steve's shirt buttons.

"Jesus," Tony says, loosening Steve's tie enough to bare a little vee of skin at the base of his throat. He leans in to kiss right there, and Steve's body is familiar under his yeah, but it's also strange and new, the way Steve waits and follows Tony's lead. There's a faintly bitter edge of cologne against Steve's neck when Tony chases down the thrumming of his pulse, betraying his apparent calm.

Steve turns his head away when Tony gets close to his mouth and Tony remembers the no-kissing rule with a flash of disappointment and mouths along Steve's jaw instead, taking the chance for a sharp little bite.

Steve's fingers press against the side of Tony's throat and he says, "Don't. Don't leave marks."

They both know it'd take a lot more than that to leave a mark on Steve for even five minutes, but Tony can work with that. 

He licks a stripe across Steve's jaw instead and tells him "You're pretty delicate for a rent-boy."

"Sex industry worker," Steve tells him.

"Classy rent-boy," Tony counters.

Steve's hands squeeze a little on Tony's hips and he asks, "What do you want?"

Tony lets himself look Steve up and down, lingers on his lips. "One way or another," he says, "I want that pretty mouth of yours. Soon as I saw you I knew those lips would look perfect wrapped around my dick."

"You bet, Mr Stark," Steve says in a low voice.

It's not like the floor's dirty (god forbid at one of these high society bullshit nights, right?), but the sight of Steve twitching his jacket straight on the tiles before he kneels down makes something in Tony's stomach swoop low and shaky.

Steve glances up at Tony and there's a devilish look in his eye before he pops the buttons on Tony's fly. With his _teeth_. Jesus. This might actually be the death of Tony. He curls his fingers once through Steve's hair, too gentle and intimate for this, so he turns it into a grip, tips Steve's head back to watch his eyelids flutter.

"I want – " Tony blurts. Jesus, this is too much, too good. "I want you to love it."

Steve smiles up at him, slides his palms up Tony's thighs. "I can do that, baby." His fingers curl into the waist of Tony's trousers and tug downwards, thumbs tracing over his hipbones as he bares them. He wastes no time, pulling Tony's underwear down along with his pants, shoving both to his knees. Tony bites his tongue when Steve wraps a hand around his dick, thumbing over the head experimentally, like he never has before.

When Steve pulls back to root through his pockets, Tony's briefly confused until he pulls out a condom. His noise of protest is entirely involuntary because yes, yay, safe sex is awesome, but they haven't used condoms in months and Tony has become selfishly used to the perfect wet heat of Steve's mouth on his skin. Steve pauses and looks up at him, foil held between two fingers. 

"C'mon, sweetheart," Tony says, wheedling.

Steve hesitates. "Extra without a condom," he says.

"Jesus." Tony fumbles in his jacket – Christ, he's still wearing a jacket – for his wallet. In an entirely uncharacteristic move, he's carrying actual cash and he pulls out half the stack of bills, folding it and pushing it into the breast pocket of Steve's shirt. "Pick a number and I'll double it, hot stuff."

Steve rolls his eyes but nods, exhales a hot breath over the head of Tony's dick. Tony breathes out hard and takes a second to shrug out of his jacket, letting it fall wherever. He feels too hot in his clothes, watching Steve closely as he strokes Tony's dick a couple of times, making a point of sucking a smear of precome off his thumb.

Steve usually always takes this slow – pacing himself, Tony assumed, but lately he's been wondering if it isn't more about teasing him. Apparently in Steve's world hookers don't tease, because he takes Tony in deep on the first go, pulling back almost straight away for a hard suck on the head and sliding down again before Tony's spluttered a first disbelieving noise.

"Fuck – _fuck_ – " Tony says on a short breath and then gets ahold of himself. More accurately he gets ahold of Steve, one hand cupping the back of his head. He still lets Steve move freely, but the illusion is a fucking gorgeous one and as he looks down he can imagine he's the one moving Steve, using that lush mouth that he's paid for, that in this breathless instant, he owns. 

It makes his eyes prickle with the heat of it and he bites down on Steve's name, says instead, "Jesus Christ, no wonder you charge for that mouth. That's it, take me nice and deep. _Fuck_."

Steve moans around Tony, a deliberate little noise that Tony can feel right through his body. 

"You like that?" Tony asks. "Does it get you hard?" That gets him another exaggerated moan, and a careful nod. "Goddamn. Show me, handsome. Show me how much you like it."

Steve looks clumsy for the first time as he fumbles with his belt, but then he's got his dick in his hand and he is _so_ hard Tony feels like punching the air. He pulls out of Steve's mouth instead, slow and controlled. Steve fights the hold Tony's got on his hair to chase after his dick and okay, enthusiasm is basically a bullet-proof kink the world over, so Tony just lets him.

"Fuck, I should keep you on a retainer," Tony says as the hot clench of Steve's throat surrounds him again, and there's a brief but unmistakable flash of amusement in Steve's eyes when they meet Tony's.

Tony presses his fingers to the wet stretch of Steve's lips. It's not a kiss, but it's a good enough pretence. Tony rolls his hips a couple of times, shallow but there's no way he can say he's doing anything but fucking Steve's face. And Steve just lets him, just _takes_ it. This is all Tony's party. It might have been an illusion before but it sure as shit isn't now, with Tony's hand gripping Steve's hair again, for real this time. Steve's tongue works in wicked patterns against the underside of Tony's dick as he rocks into that wet heat.

It might – _might_ – bother Tony, this sensation that he's just using Steve to get off, if Steve wasn't so obviously getting off on it too, his prick hard in his hand as he strokes himself, just this side of rough. It makes Tony feel a little overwhelmed, a little giddy like he's had way more than just a couple of glasses of scotch. He's pretty much stone cold sober though, been anticipating this all night. It's weird because roleplay has never really been high up on Tony's list, and paying for it definitely isn't, but this is _really_ fucking working for him.

"God," Tony says, his hand slipping down to squeeze the back of Steve's neck, the thrusts of his hips deepening until Steve is – not choking, but humming a kind of moan each time. "Fuck, look how easy you take it. Practice makes perfect, yeah? Hold it. Keep it in," he says, words slipping out from between his teeth as he presses as deep as he can, Steve's nose pressed against Tony's skin, his eyes squeezed shut, face a picture of strained concentration. This time when Tony pulls out slow, Steve gasps for air, his mouth wet, but he just curls his hands around Tony's thighs and chases after him again with a breathy little moan. Jesus. Tony told him to love it, and Steve sure does hate to disappoint. 

Steve takes Tony back in, moving fast and frantic until even he, with his super-enhanced lung capacity, and his practically non-existent gag reflex, is choking just a little every time, making his throat ripple around Tony in a way that's got him practically cross-eyed. The wall at Tony's back feels thankfully solid and it's taking most of his weight, knees gone watery at the sight of Steve at his feet, working so goddamn industriously for a paycheck.

Tony knows it's not going to take much, but he still doesn't except it to be over so quickly. Steve twists his head on the next sloppy thrust, just enough that he's blinking up at Tony, eyes wide and oddly shiny, determined as ever as he stares at Tony, broadcasting loud and clear exactly who Steve considers to have the upper hand right now.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Tony says, and suddenly he's coming, sensation rocketing up his spine and back down again, pushing his hips forward and then dragging them abruptly back so that a last thick streak of come hits Steve's chin, his open lips.

Steve breathes hard, pink tongue darting out to clean his lips in a gesture that makes Tony's knees weak all over again. Steve's still kneeling, legs splayed apart and Tony can't help running the toe of his shoe up the tight muscles on the inside of Steve's thigh. Steve pitches forward again, licks Tony clean and tucks him back into his pants.

"What about you, hot stuff?" Tony asks, and Steve shakes his head even as he gets to his feet and wipes at the slick mess of spit and come still on his chin.

"That's not why we're here."

"Wrong," Tony says, crowding Steve up against the wall. "We're here for whatever I want, remember? What, is it extra to get a feel of this?" he asks, squeezing Steve very unsubtly where he's not quite tucked himself back in properly. "I'm gonna get you off, and you're gonna just stand there and look pretty, okay?"

Steve nods and lets Tony press against him. Tony rubs the heel of his hand over Steve's dick, a firm grind. Steve's head drops back against the wall with a thunk, his broad chest heaving under his shirt. Tony kisses his jaw, his chin, where he'd swear there's still a faint taste of himself. He's probably pushing a little close to a kiss, but Steve doesn't complain. He's so goddamn thick in Tony's hand, hot and urgent, such a counterpoint to the way he's keeping his palms pressed to the wall behind him, apparently determined to do nothing more than let Tony get him off.

Steve's resolve only cracks at the last minute, when Tony skates his palm over the head of Steve's cock, smearing precome back down the shaft in a way that always gets to Steve. Big, strong hands close on Tony's ribs, yanking him closer. If anything, Tony's the fucking pro in this relationship, okay, because he manages not to get so much as a single splash of come on anyone's suit. 

For a moment they're in a frozen little tableau, both breathing hard, Tony with a handful of spunk and Steve with a hell of a grip on Tony's sides.

"You know if we're really going for authenticity, I should have you sign a non-disclosure form right now," Tony says, still a little out of breath.

He's not expecting it, but Steve laughs loud and honest, totally himself, nothing left of the role he's been playing left as he tags Tony's shoulders against the opposite wall and kisses him.

" _Finally_ ," Tony mumbles. "That was fun, but the no kissing – "

"Jeez, your face," Steve says, and he still looks giddily amused, so much that Tony can't even complain it's at his expense, just curls his clean hand over Steve's shoulder and pulls him in to kiss him again. 

The party can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/333760.html) at my lj


End file.
